Star Trek 12

by James Blish

  "A Zeon?"

  Spock nodded. "I captured him. Is that not the proper procedure with enemies of the Fatherland?"

  "With all Zeon pigs, Lieutenant."

  "Take charge of him," Spock said.

  "With pleasure." He seized Kirk again. "All right, Zeon, today we have a surprise for you. We—"

  He collapsed under the Vulcan neck pinch. Kirk looked down at the unconscious body. "I'm sorry, Spock, that your uniform isn't as attractive as mine is. I believe this is the Gestapo variety."

  "Correct, Captain. You should make a very convincing Nazi."

  Kirk snapped him a look. But he was too busy turning himself into a Gestapo officer to think of a suitable rejoinder.

  They gave themselves time before mounting the steps of the Chancellery. Swastikas were everywhere—on the banners that fluttered over the building, on the arm-bands of the SS men who stood at its massive doors, armed with submachine guns. The guards snapped to attention as an SS General Officer crossed the pavement to the steps. Kirk and Spock played it cool as they followed behind him. An SS Major came out of the big doors as the General entered them.

  The Major glared at Spock. "Lieutenant! Have you forgotten how to salute?"

  Spock extended his arm in a crisp Nazi salute.

  "Papers," the Major said.

  Kirk turned to Spock. "Your orders, Lieutenant. The Major wants to see your orders. There, in your jacket . . ."

  The Major studied them suspiciously as Spock reached quickly into his jacket. He came out with a wallet, and the Major took it.

  Kirk moved into the obvious breach of confidence. "The Lieutenant is a little dazed, sir. He captured several Zeons single-handed. But one of the pigs struck him before he dropped. I promise you, that pig will never get up again."

  "Good work, Lieutenant. Hail the Führer!"

  He handed the wallet back to Spock. Kirk quickly extended his arm in the Nazi salute. "Hail the Führer!"

  Spock repeated the litany. "Hail the Führer!"

  "This is a day to remember, Major," Kirk said.

  As they passed into the Chancellery, the Major stopped Spock, solicitude in his face. "Better have a doctor check you, Lieutenant. You don't look well. Your color is—Remove your helmet."

  "We have no time to waste," Spock said.

  Kirk's heart was pounding. "Major, we have urgent business with the Führer. We must see him immediately."

  The Major was inexorable. "Your helmet, Lieutenant. Take it off!"

  The guards' submachine guns jabbed brutally into Spock's neck. He lifted the helmet, revealing his pointed Vulcan ears.

  In the cell, they had stripped Kirk to the waist. For a purpose. They did nothing without a purpose. The naked, uncovered flesh made the whip's lashing immediate. Like Spock, manacled too, he made no sound as the whip cut bloody grooves into his back. Behind them in the cell, the Zeon they had first seen brutalized lay, retching, on his stomach.

  "You wish to talk now?"

  The SS Major was pleased to be irritated. "Tell me your orders! You were sent to kill our Führer. Confess! Do you want some more persuasion?"

  Kirk rallied the power of speech. "You're making this a rather one-sided conversation, Major."

  "Don't joke with me, Zeon pig!" The Major glanced at his SS lasher. He took a lowered, confidential tone. "Who is this pointed-eared alien? Things will go easier with you if you tell me about him."

  Kirk lifted his pain-filled eyes. "Let us talk to the Führer. We'll tell him anything he wants to know."

  "You'll be glad to talk to me before I've finished with you, you Zeon swine, you—"

  The cell door opened. A man, simply uniformed in Party dress but radiating an air of quiet, self-intact authority, walked in. The SS Major stiffened to awed attention. "Chairman Eneg! I am honored! Excellency, I have been interrogating these two spies, captured in the very act of—"

  "I have had the full report."

  The quiet man ignored the Major to speak to Spock. "You are not from Zeon. Where do you come from?"

  Kirk said, "We'll explain when we see the Führer."

  "And what is your business with the Führer?"

  "We can discuss that only with him."

  Furious, the Major seized the whip from the guard and slashed Kirk with it. "Pig! You're speaking to the Chairman of the Party!"

  "That's enough, Major!" Eneg said sharply. He turned to Kirk. "What are the weapons that were found on you? What design?"

  Kirk was silent. Eneg looked at the Major. "Our famously efficient SS laboratories have failed to discover how your weapons work."

  The Major reddened. "Excellency, give me a few minutes with them, and I promise you I'll have them—"

  "You've had more than a few minutes with them without result." Eneg looked at Kirk's slashed back. "The trouble with you SS people is that you don't realize punishment is ineffective after a certain point. Men become insensitive."

  After a moment, the Major said, "Yes, Excellency."

  "Lock them up. Let their pain argue with them. Then I will question them."

  "Excellency, the standing order is: 'Interrogate and execute.' The interrogation is finished. Therefore—"

  "Finished, Major? What have you learned? Nothing. Hold them for an hour."

  "Excellency, the order—"

  Eneg's quiet eyes flashed with sudden anger. "That is my order, Major. I suggest that you do not disobey it."

  "Yes, Excellency."

  Eneg turned to the door. The guard leaped to open it for him. As he left, the Major turned back to the Enterprise men. "All right, pigs. My eye will be on the clock. When the hour is up, you will die. Most unpleasantly, I promise you." He slammed the cell door behind him.

  Slowly, the Zeon prisoner got to his feet, his eyes watchful as Spock said, "What do you propose to do, Captain?"

  "I don't know. But we haven't much time to do it. Without our phasers . . . our communicators . . ." He looked around the cell. "John Gill is the only chance we have now."

  "Captain, have you considered how he must have changed to be responsible for all this?"

  "Professor Gill was one of the kindest, gentlest men I've ever known. For him to be a Nazi is so—it’s just impossible."

  The Zeon spoke. "Why did they take you? You are not a Zeon." He nodded toward Spock. "And he certainly is not. Who are you?"

  Spock said, "Why do the Nazis hate Zeons?"

  The question evoked a bitter answer. "Without us to hate, there would be nothing to bring them together. So the Party has built us into a threat—a disease that must be wiped out."

  "Is Zeon a threat to them?"

  "Where did you come from? Our warlike period ended a dozen generations ago! When we came here, we thought we were civilizing the Ekosians!"

  "Were they like this when you Zeons first came?" Kirk said.

  "Warlike. But not vicious. That came after the Nazi movement started. Only a few years ago."

  Spock looked at Kirk. "That would agree with the time of Gill's arrival, Captain."

  The embittered Zeon was launched on the troubles of his people. "When they have destroyed us here, they will attack our planet with the technology we gave them. The danger is that the taking of life is so repugnant to us, we may go down without a struggle." His fists clenched. "After what I've seen in the streets today, I think I could kill!"

  Kirk studied the impassioned face. "Do you know the plan of this building?"

  The Zeon went on immediate guard. "Why?"

  "If we can get to the SS weapons laboratory . . . get our weapons back, we can stop the slaughter of the Zeons."

  "Why should you be interested in saving Zeons?" the man asked coldly.

  Kirk turned back to Spock. "We must get our communicators and contact the ship."

  "The flaw in that plan. Captain, is these locked cell doors. And beyond them is a guard."

  "The transponders!" Kirk cried.

  "Pardon, sir?"

  But Kirk was staring at the
cell's overhead light. "A way to throw some light on our gloom, Mr. Spock!"

  Spock looked thoughtfully at his wrist. "The rubidium crystals in the transponders! Of course, it would be crude, but perhaps workable. How can we get them out?"

  They had lowered their voices. The Zeon hadn't heard their last exchange, but he continued to watch them, puzzled.

  "Here," Kirk said.

  He yanked the mattress from a bed, and, ripping the fabric, seized a wire spring. It snapped, its edge sharp. He used it to slit through the slight bulge on his wrist, releasing the bright red crystal. Blood welled from the cut. He handed the wire to Spock. As he too probed out his crystal, the Zeon cried, "You will kill yourselves? Bleed to death? But many do it to avoid the torture."

  "That's not quite what we had in mind," Kirk told him. "You have the figures computed, Mr. Spock?"

  "Yes, Captain. It will be necessary to hold the crystals at a specific distance. The distance should be two point seven millimeters. I shall put the first crystal . . ."

  As he spoke, he placed a crystal into a hole at the edge of the flat spring, pushing it firmly in. ". . . here. The second one at the other end." He was bending the spring into a horseshoe shape so that the crystals at the two ends were precisely aligned. "Two point seven millimeters would be approximately here. That, of course, is a crude estimation."

  The Zeon was staring in amazement. "What are you making—some kind of radio?"

  "No. The electrical power in that light is very low, Mr. Spock."

  "It should be sufficient to stimulate the rubidium crystal. As I recall from the history of Physics, the ancient lasers were able to achieve the necessary excitation, even using crude natural crystals. There. It's ready. But to reach the light source, I shall require a platform."

  "I'd be honored, Mr. Spock." Kirk was wry, only too aware of his lacerated shoulders. He stooped under the bulb and Spock climbed up on them. "I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry, Mr. Spock. That guard did a very professional job with the whip."

  Spock lifted the cylinder up to the bulb. "The aim, of course, can only be approximate," he said.

  Kirk's shoulders were bleeding. "Spock, I'll settle if you can hit the broad side of a barn."

  Spock frowned. "Why should I aim at such a structure, sir?"

  "Never mind, Spock. Get on with the job."

  The tiny rubidium crystals were glowing a bright red. Suddenly, ruby light flashed from Spock's contraption, cutting through the door's steel bars like butter. The lock was next. Kirk saw it loosen.

  "All right, Mr. Spock. Don't overdo it."

  Spock leaped from his shoulders. Kirk touched them, saw blood on his hand and wiped it off on the torn mattress fabric. The Zeon, awed, whispered, "What was that? Zeon science has nothing like it. With such a weapon, we'd have a chance against them!"

  "It's not a weapon," Kirk said. "It has an extremely short range. Get over to that corner, Mr. Spock. Keep out of sight. I'll create a commotion."

  At the cell door, he yelled, "All right. I'll talk. Please! I don't want to die. Guard! I'll talk. Call the Major. I'll talk!"

  He shook the bars, still shouting. The guard took a half step forward. Spock jumped from his corner, thrust his hand through the bars and applied the neck pinch. The guard dropped. Spock opened the door, dragged the body into the cell and tossed the man's coat to Kirk. As Kirk struggled into it, the Zeon came out of his daze.

  "Take me with you. Please give me a chance to fight them," he pleaded. "Take me—or you'll never find the laboratory."

  "An excellent point, Mr. Spock. Take him. He's our guide."

  But there was another guard in the corridor. Kirk pulled the gun from the downed man's holster, pressed it into the Zeon's back and, motioning Spock to get in front of him, lowered his voice. "Which door is the laboratory?"

  "Second on the right," the Zeon whispered.

  "All right, Zeon swine, move!" Kirk shouted.

  The guard eyed them boredly and resumed his position. As they passed him, heading for the laboratory door, it opened. An SS Trooper emerged and, turning, locked the door behind him. He was walking by them when Kirk, jerking the Zeon toward him, shoved into the guard. They all fell back against a wall. Kirk slapped the Zeon.

  "Clumsy Zeon pig!" He spoke to the guard. "Sorry, but these Zeons do nothing right. They'll pay for it though. They're on their way to the laboratory for experimental work." Nodding, the guard moved off. Grinning, Kirk held his keys.

  The laboratory was deserted, but on a table to their left, Kirk spotted their disassembled communicators. He gathered up the parts.

  "Who are you people?" the Zeon demanded.

  "The phasers?" Kirk said.

  "I do not see them, Captain."

  "Where do you come from?" the Zeon asked again.

  Kirk had discovered an informative clipboard. Flipping its pages, he read them hastily. Their phasers had been sent to Gestapo Command Headquarters for analysis. "We can forget about our phasers," he was telling Spock when the door was flung open. The SS Guard had learned that his keys were missing. He stared at Kirk and Spock, snapping his pistol up. The Zeon, out of his line of sight, struck him. The first blow was wild. But the second one dropped the trooper cold.

  Kirk looked down at the felled man. "For peaceful people," he said, "you Zeons are very thorough."

  They also learned quickly. The Zeon pointed to the trooper's uniform. "Wearing that, we might be able to steal a car and get out of the capital."

  "We came here to find John Gill," Kirk said.

  Spock spoke. "Captain, without phasers, and until we are able to communicate with the ship, it is illogical to assume we can hold out against the entire military force of this planet."

  Kirk considered the point. "All right, Mr. Spock. Get into that uniform and cover your ears again."

  Within seconds, Spock was in full SS Lieutenant's regalia, his ears helmeted. Kirk, in the guard's outfit, found a stretcher piled on others in a corner of the laboratory. When they emerged from it, the Zeon lay on the stretcher, his eyes closed as though past an extremity of torture. The guard at the door snapped Spock a salute.

  "Hunting's good," Kirk told him. "We've caught so many Zeons, we've got to dump them outside."

  They got away with it. In the shadow of a building, they set the stretcher down. Spock said, "I suggest the guards will shortly notice our absence, Captain."

  "There'll be a planet-wide alert," the Zeon warned them.

  "We’ll have to find someplace to hide until we can reassemble the communicators and get help from the Enterprise."

  Kirk's remark seemed to deeply disturb the Zeon. He was clearly wrestling with some momentous decision.

  "You could be spies," he said, "sent to find our underground hiding places." Then his face cleared. "But that's a chance I must take. I put my life in your hands. More important, I am putting the lives of our friends in your hands."

  They followed him down the street, hugging the buildings' shadows until they came to a dark alley. It was dirty with a clutter of trash, garbage pails, a litter of empty tin cans. The Zeon went to the metal top of a manhole cover and rapped on it four times. Finally, from deep underground came the sound of four answering raps. The Zeon knocked at the manhole cover twice again, waving the two Enterprise men to a crouch as a patrol car, filled with troops, roared past the alley's entrance. When the noise had faded, the Zeon knocked again. The manhole cover lifted on a narrow, black opening.

  "Come," said the Zeon.

  A narrow metal ladder led down into the darkness. When they reached its last rung, a Zeon passed them and scrambled up to swing the metal cover shut again. He descended the ladder and their guide said, "Davod, you're well. How many are here?"

  He wasn't answered. Davod was staring suspiciously at Kirk and Spock.

  "They helped me escape from the prison! I owe them my life, Davod!"

  "Isak!"

  An older man, strong-faced, had entered the dim-lit room. "Abrom, thank G
od you're well." Their Zeon and the older man embraced. "This is my brother," their guide said. "Abrom, they were prisoners, beaten as I was."

  Abrom's eyes were searching their faces. "Why were you in that prison?"

  "I was trying to see the Führer," Kirk said.

  "The Führer!"

  "If I can see him, there may be a way to stop this insanity."

  Isak said, "I owe them my life, Abrom."

  Davod strode angrily out of the room and Abrom said, "Isak, Uletta is dead." After a moment, he added, "She was shot down in the street."

  Isak's shocked face moved Kirk to ask, "Your sister?"

  "She would have been my wife."

  Abrom's voice shook. "She lived for five hours while they walked by her and spat on her. Our own people could do nothing to help. Yet you ask me to help strangers."

  Isak lifted his face from the hands he had used to hide it. "If we adopt the ways of the Nazis, we are as bad as the Nazis."

  Spock, hesitating to intrude on such private tragedy, motioned Kirk aside. "Captain, may I suggest the most profitable use of our time would be to reassemble the communicators?" He spoke gently to Abrom. "May I work over there undisturbed for a few moments?"

  Abrom didn't speak. Finally, Isak nodded, and taking his brother by the shoulder, moved away. Kirk joined Spock at a table where they spread out the communicators' elements. Using parts of both, Spock put one together, and, handing it to Kirk, said, "I cannot be certain that the circuits are correct. There's no way to test it except by actual use."

  Kirk was about to remind him that the Enterprise would be beyond range for another hour when there were shouts and the sound of a shot outside. The door was burst open. Two Storm Troopers armed with submachine guns broke into the room. With them, her lovely head held arrogantly high, was the girl in brown-shirt uniform they'd seen on the TV screen. She was wearing her iron cross.

  Kirk remembered her name and her beauty.

  "It's Daras," he told Spock.

  "Quiet!" the girl shouted. "Over against the wall—all of you! Hands in the air, Zeon swine!"

  She marched down the line of them, studying faces. Pausing when she came to Kirk, Spock and Isak, she, said, "You are the three who escaped from the Chancellery. What was your plan?"